


Over the Barricade

by Akigriffin



Series: Over the Barricade [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: All death is canon and in the past, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Enjolras and Grantaire both have issues, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akigriffin/pseuds/Akigriffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly everyone remembers, and no one can figure out what do to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Barricade

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this is really self-indulgence. Also, now I’m shifting the focus onto Grantaire and Enjolras. Marius was just a means to an end there.  
> Also, what Les Mis media does this take place in? Brick? Musical? Random Movie? Fuck if I know. Let’s go with all of the above

Grantaire woke up with a start. ‘It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream,’ his mind chanted over and over. He could _feel_ it. He knew it. He took deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself.

His phone started chirping from where he had thrown it on the floor the night before. It was in rapid fire. Grantaire felt around until he found it. 2:53 am. The ‘Les Amis’ group chat was flooded. He didn’t bother scrolling to the top and just read what was going through.

:Couf: so every1?

There were various messages back of ‘yes’. Ten of them, practically all at once. 

:Apollo: Everyone please calm down

:Apollo: There’s nothing we can do right now

:Apollo: How about we meet at the usual in the morn

:Apollo: 6?

None of them would be able to get back to sleep; that was sure. What time they met wouldn’t matter.

There were confirmations from everyone as Grantaire watched, then a few quick good-nights, and the chat went quiet.

After another minute, in which Grantaire just stared off, unable to think straight, his phone rang in his hand.

Apollo popped up on screen. Grantaire didn’t hesitate to answer.

“You weren’t in the chat. You got it, too, right?” Enjolars’ voice was soft and he asked almost like he was afraid of the answer.

“Yeah, no, I did,” Grantaire’s throat was scratchier than it usually was. “I just…”

Enjolras waited patiently for the rest of the sentence, but it didn’t come. “Are you going to be alright?”

Grantaire laughed, but it turned quickly into coughing. “I just saw us die. What do you think?”

“...Do you want me to come over?”

Grantaire glanced at the time again. “I’m not having you take a cab halfway across the city to fucking cuddle at 3 in the morning.”

He could hear Enjolras sigh on the other side of the line. “I want you sharp in the morning. Please?” he requested.

“Right, fine, no early morning drinking today. I’m just...I’m just gonna sketch and hope it’s not inspired by…But I make no promises for the afternoon.”

This time it was Enjolras who let out the short laugh. “I might join you. I doubt I’m going to go to class, anyway.”

“The great Enjolras? Missing class for something other than a protest?” Grantaire gasped in mock surprise.

“Hush. Go to your art. I love you and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Love you,” Grantaire returned before reluctantly hanging up.

Two and a half hours later, his sketch-book was filled with images of Paris so long ago, and his friends in a different life.

*

When Grantaire made it to their usual cafe at a few minutes after six, he saw Éponine talking to the owner already.

“It’s too early to have all of you here arguing!” the older woman was protesting.

“This isn’t one of those meetings. We’ll all be very considerate. We just need the upstairs so we have room for everyone.

The woman stared her down for a moment. “Every one of you better buy something.”

Éponine grinned and order for herself.

“‘Taire?”

Grantaire turned around and felt all of that night’s tension fall away. “Here before you for once.”

Enjolras wrapped his arms tightly around Grantaire instead of replying, and Grantaire held back just as tight. He didn’t realize he was crying until he heard Enjolras gently shushing him. “It’s alright, ‘Taire,” he promised. “We’ll have this meeting, figure out what to do, and then spend the rest of the day together.”

Grantaire nodded and pulled back so he could wipe his now-runny nose on his sweatshirt, much to the distaste of Enjolras. “Do we have to talk about past /us/ yet?”

“Not today. Today we’ll find something to distract ourselves instead.”

“Can we relax outside of the Center Pompidou?”

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh. “You _hate_ looking at that building. What did you call it?”

“‘What happens when you give a child crayons to design a museum.’ And that it’s the biggest eyesore in France.”

“So you want to go across town to complain about a building. While looking at it.”

“Please?”

“You already know I‘m going to say yes.”

Grantaire smiled and leaned up so he could kiss him.

“I’ve seen everyone else come in,” Enjolras said after a moment. “We should join them.”

Grantaire nodded reluctantly and followed him upstairs.

They reached the top of the stairs and finally saw all their friends in one place. They were all lounging, exhausted, over the various chairs and couches that made up the room. Most of them turned to look at Enjolras and, for possibly the first time, he froze.

Grantaire gave him a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the hand, trusting his boyfriend would be okay, before moving to sit on the floor in front of Jehan (they loved playing with Grantaire’s thick hair, and it relaxed them both).

But Enjolras didn’t snap out of it. He just stared at his group of friends. He had gotten almost all of them killed. He had stirred them into a pointless, deadly, fight. His fault. His fault. He started shaking. 

Combeferre was the first to realize how close Enjolras was to just breaking down. He nudged Courfeyrac, who was dozing on his shoulder. “Grab him,” he whispered. “I’ll talk.”

Courfeyrac nodded and quickly grabbed Enjolras by the elbow. “Come on,” he said softly, pulling the other man to take Combeferre’s spot on the couch.

Grantaire finally looked up, realizing something was wrong, and saw his lover pale and shaking. “Shit,” he muttered.

Jehan let out a small, sad noise as their soft toy ran away from them, but let him go.

Grantaire practically threw himself in Enjolras’ lap, ignoring the fact that he was definitely bulkier, and held him tightly. “You okay?” he whispered.

Enjolras nodded. “Fine. Just thrown a bit. I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar.”

Enjolras didn’t bother replying.

“So,” Combeferre started, adjusting his glasses, “we all remember the whole barricade disaster and dying?”

Grantaire felt Enjolras flinch violently. 

“No,” both Musichetta and Cosette said.

“But that date? June 6th? It’s the last day I remember. Everything else is…”

“Feelings?” Cosette finished for her. Musichetta nodded.

“I remember being shot but not dying…?” Marius said, looking to his girlfriend like she would have the answer, but she just shook her head.

“Okay. So even if you /didn’t/ die that day, it’s still all you remember.”

“I remember something else,” Bossuet said. “I’m just not sure it was real.”

“The grass,” Marius said suddenly.

“The garden! And all of Paris after!” Musichetta said. “That part feels like…”

“Peyote,” Grantaire chimed in.

Jehan’s eyes lit up. “Yes! It felt just like a trip! A very good trip!”

Joly stared at them, then rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d both know.” Grantaire shrugged and Jehan just smiled innocently, playing with the end of their braid.

“Alright,” Combeferre said loudly, purposely derailing that conversation, “question is, what to do with this information.”

“Stop,” Enjolras whispered.

Every pair of eyes turned to him.

“We stop all of this and disband.” With that Enjolras got up, careful not to throw Grantaire off, and quickly rushed outside.

“Wha-” Courfeyrac started, but Grantaire was already up and out after him.

Grantaire found him around the corner of the café, trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands.

“Enj…?” he said, stopping next to him. He took the lighter from the other man and lit the cigarette for him.

“Thanks,” Enjolras muttered, “but I want to be alone right now,”

“Yeah, no,” Grantaire said casually. “Not happening. Anyways, you promised me an afternoon out.”

“...’Taire.”

“No,” Grantaire repeated.

Enjolras knew better than to try and change his boyfriend’s mind, so he just stood there and smoked, occasionally letting Grantaire take a puff.

“Alright,” Grantaire said after a while. “It’s been twenty minutes. Time to tell me what’s up.”

Enjolras dropped what was left of the cigarette and crushed it under his boot. “I got them all killed.”

“Nobody blames you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Fine. I won’t speak for everyone. But I can speak for myself. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame the Enjolras from then, and I most _definitely_ don’t blame the Enjolras standing in front of me.”

Enjolras shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!” Grantaire put his arms around Enjolras’ shoulders. “Alright,” he said more calmly. “Alright. We’re obviously both going through shock and guilt and shit about things we didn’t do, right?”

Enjolras didn’t answer.

“Right. So. How ‘bout we take a walk. We can go down and sit by the Seine?”

“I thought you wanted to go to the Centre Pompidou?”

“Hearing me bitch about that for two hours is the last thing you need. Now come on. I’m gonna text Courf and let him know we’re not coming back in, okay?”

Enjolras nodded numbly.

Grantaire sent Courfeyrac a message with a location. ‘Bring ferre. Need support for enj. 30 min.’

“All set,” he declared, wrapping an arm around Enjolras’ waist. He started gently leading him towards the river.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, come drop by my tumblr if you want: http://akigriffin.tumblr.com/  
> And Betaed by the tired and over-worked BB (underlonelyskiesthewolvescry)


End file.
